The newcomers table was positioned at the far corner of the private dining room, close enough to see the main table but distant enough that the message was clear.Derick studied the arrangement as he entered the exclusive Hamilton Club, taking in the mahogany paneling and oil paintings of stern-faced men who'd probably founded half of New England's oldest institutions, and he understood immediately that Jonathan Sterling had designed this evening to establish hierarchy in front of an audience that mattered. The main table seated twelve, centered under a crystal chandelier that cast warm light over faces Derick recognized from yesterday's summit, while the newcomers table held six chairs arranged in what felt less like seating and more like quarantine."Mr. Sekwiga," a club attendant said, gesturing toward the corner with a smile that was professionally neutral. "Your seat is at table two.""Of course," Derick replied, making his way across the room while conversations at the main tabl

The evening wound down with dessert and after-dinner drinks that Derick barely touched, too focused on processing everything he'd observed about the regional hierarchy and the casual way these people discussed corruption as if it were simply business as usual. Elena stayed close, deflecting several attempts by main table guests to pull her into their conversations and maintaining her chosen position at the newcomers table with the kind of stubborn grace that Derick found himself admiring. As guests began leaving, Sterling approached the newcomers table with Blake trailing behind like a loyal attack dog waiting for permission to bite. "Derick, I hope tonight was informative," Sterling said, his smile pleasant but his eyes calculating. "New England can be challenging territory for outsiders, but with the right guidance and respect for established relationships, there's room for everyone." "Very informative," Derick replied, standing and shaking Sterling's offered hand with appropr

The bait was simple, and that was exactly what made it dangerous.Derick sat across from Cole Merritt in a small, windowless room inside Titan Holdings and watched the man absorb his instructions with the careful attention of someone who knew that one wrong step would finish him completely. Cole looked older than he had two days ago, which made sense, because being caught aged a person faster than almost anything else."You understand what I need from you," Derick said, keeping his voice even and low."You want me to pass the information about the Geneva transfer through my usual channel to Holt," Cole said, folding his hands on the table. "The Foundation archive. Forty years of double agent names. Being moved physically from Geneva to New York in ten days.""That's correct."Cole looked down at his hands for a moment. "And if Holt figures out it isn't real?""He won't," Derick said. "Because the document you're going to pass him looks completely real, it reads completely real, and ev

The call came at 6:04 in the morning, and Derick was already awake.He had been sitting at his kitchen counter with a cup of coffee that had gone lukewarm, watching the grey light build slowly over the city through the window, thinking about nothing specific and everything at once, the way a man does when he knows something is about to happen and the only thing left is to wait for it.His phone screen lit up with Victor's name, and he answered before the second ring."They moved," Victor said."All of them?""Four vehicles, six operatives, professional equipment," Victor said, and Derick could hear the quiet intensity in his voice, the kind that came from watching something unfold exactly as planned. "They hit the convoy intercept point at five forty-seven. Reeves's teams were already in position."Derick set his coffee cup down on the counter. "And Holt?""Reeves took him personally. Manhattan apartment, six in the morning."Victor paused for a brief moment. "Clean. No resistance. Re

Petrina called on a Wednesday morning, and the first thing she said was that she was not calling to ask for anything.Derick was still unpacking his thoughts from the Washington trip, still turning Sandra Walsh's business card over in his mind the way you turn a coin when you are not sure which side matters more, and Petrina's voice cut through all of it with the particular directness she had developed in the past two years, the kind that came from a woman who had learned the hard way that clarity was cheaper than regret."My father was released from prison four days ago," she said. "Medical grounds. His heart condition apparently made him eligible for early release." She paused briefly. "I wanted you to know in case it changes anything on your end security-wise."Derick leaned back in his chair. "Thank you for telling me," he said. "It doesn't change anything on my end.""I didn't think it would," she said. "But I thought you should hear it from me rather than from a news alert.""Ho